What Came After
by Philippa Scholz
Summary: This is what happens directly after the battle. It carries on as if it were the next chapter in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Harry's burden has been taken of only to be replaced with regret for the sacrifices made by those he loved. He must now help build up the Wizarding community as well as form a life of his own...


Harry awoke he didn't know how many hours later. He opened his eyes, groggy with sleep. At first he was confused at his surroundings. Without his glasses on, all he could make out was a patch of sunlight streaming in from a faraway window in the corner of the room. Dust was dancing in the lights presence and the random swirling patterns they made transfixed him.

He didn't' dare move. Harry felt that if he did stir from his spot, which he now realized was his old bed in his Gryffindor dormitory, that a great weight would come crashing down on him. The previous events were trying to push themselves into Harry's conscience but he was aware that when he let them, a great weight would come thundering down on him.

So he lay there a while longer. There was no need to worry about time but after a while he could no longer fight of the thoughts and images of the battle that flashed across his mind like heated metal, branding the events before his eyes.

Fred…Remus…Tonks…dead. All. Dead. And that's when it came. The beast of fury and rage of the sacrifices of those he loved clawed at his insides, the pain spreading through his body in waves and Harry let of a hollow, strangled sob. Tears were falling now. Slowly at first but then thick and fast as he realized at what he must face when he stepped out the room.

Before the battle, Harry had given little to no thought as to what would happen after he defeated, _if_ he defeated, Lord Voldemort. In fact, the whole time he had spent hunting down the horcruxes he had only ever imagined and feared what might happen _until_ he met Riddle.

It seemed odd to him, now that the impossible had occurred. They had won! Harry wondered why he had never once dreamed of a future past the ongoing war. Shouldn't that have been his goal? His motivation for all of this?

But he knew deep down that the reason he had endured the pain, had been willing to sacrifice his life, was due to the love he had for his friends, not at the hope of a better future. Sure, he had dreamed that perhaps he and Ginny could finally spend time together, perhaps even have a future with each other. Those dreams, however, had always been crushed by the weight of his quest and he had never let himself hope.

It was in this moment of thought, though he was still trying to hold himself together, that Harry knew that he had to leave. Just for a while. He did not want the stares of those who had lost ones among the dead to penetrate him. He did not want to see the wreckage of the castle unfold in the daylight. And he did not want to see the dead. He had to escape to somewhere where he was just a boy. Normal. Not some conqueror of a Dark Lord, not 'the chosen' one. Just Harry.

Images flashed across his mind as he considered the many possibilities of where he could retreat to.

Eventfully he stopped his rocking gradually, deep rasps issuing out from is throat. He trembled but tried to compose himself once more. There would be time for mourning later. There was so much time.

Only hours earlier had time seemed limited, every second a God given gift. But now it stretched endless before him. It seemed ominous in the silence, alone.

It was not out of fear however of what was awaiting him but grief and remorse that Harry put on his invisibility cloak slowly, each movement seeming to last for years. Someone had folded the beautiful allow and placed it beside his bed, his glasses and wand laid beside it. Probably Ron checking up on him.

He walked to the top of Gryffindor tower. There was no need to be invisible as he was sure that no one would feel the need to climb the tower at this moment in time but the familiar feeling of the cloth was welcoming and he felt covered as if before he had been in a state of nudity. He had never attempted to reach the top of the tower as he had always presumed it only led to a roof or small balcony. His room had a spectacular view so he had never seen a need to make the trip.

As he came to a large wooden door and opened it with the twist of the handle, he found that the idea of a balcony had been correct. It was barely big enough for Harry, who was very slender he realized, after his long absence of a proper meal due to the occurrence the past year. It had never occurred to him as Ron and Hermione where in the same state of neglect.

He closed the wooden door behind and the handle thudded down again. He raised his head and looked outwards. If he looked beyond the grounds he could pretend that nothing had happened.

But it had. With a sigh that made him feel dizzy and unbalanced, he turned on the spot.

**…**

Harry knew from Hermione that it was impossible to apparate in and out the grounds. How many times had she badgered Ron and Harry to read Hogwarts a history? He somehow knew subconsciously however that this had been broken last night. The spell that made it impossible to move in and out of Hogwarts without magic was, after all, not needed anymore. Who was there to keep out?

The familiar feeling of being squeezed through something occurred just as quickly as it took Harry to straighten up. He was on a pavement in a darkened alleyway. The Light from above was mostly blocked out by towers of apartment flats and further away, there was an outline of what seemed to be the Gherkin.

He made his way toward the light issuing from ahead.

'Invenio' Harry muttered, wand in hand. Suddenly at the mouth of the alley appeared an arrow pointing left. He followed it, cloak still on. He didn't want people to see him. Who knew what he looked like. All he was aware of was that everything hurt. Different forms of pain merged together to create one, gigantic one. Somehow his mind dulled it however.

This thought made Harry think of people who went into shock. Was that what was happening to him? Perhaps. After all, why had he chosen here to visit in his attempt of peace? He stumbled through street after street, each time he came close to another junction, an arrow pointing the right way, only visible to him, appeared.

He eventually came to an apartment block. It was grotty and it had the air of a poorly treated property, uncared for by the owners. This made him smile a little. Only just. It must have been rather a big shock to them… His arrows led him to a large set of doors that led him to a small foyer. In one corner was a lift, beside it a set of stairs. He looked all around him to see if anyone was there. No one was. Harry carried on looking for security cameras but on finding one in a corner of the sealing, he could see that it had long since been broken.

He walked up to the lift doors and pressed the button, an arrow seeming to be engraved on them pointing upwards. The button was sticky and despite the horrors he had been through, he shuddered at the thought of what unpleasant substance it could be. With a rattle and a clang, the doors opened revealing the dingy room, half the lights broken, the mirror cracked. Harry didn't take the cloak of however as he had no desire to see his reflection. Instead he pressed another grimy button that had seemed to glow when he looked for another arrow to point him in the right direction.

The lift was slow and he could easily have walked up the stairs quicker but the idea drained him. He clung to bar beside the mirror to stay upright and only when the doors opened on the 18th floor did he take of the clock and stuff it under his jumper.

Without a second glance behind at the mirror, he carried on forward, following another arrow along a corridor which veered left and then...stopped. It had led him to room 43, the first number askew. With a deep breath he knocked three times, strong and clearly.

He waited and after a few seconds he wondered if anyone was home. It was in the middle of this thought that the door creaked open revealing the shell shocked face of Aunt Petunia.


End file.
